The Ayers family
by Darren Brimhall
Summary: General Colton's report on what he finds at Ayers Aerospace, and finds out about the Ayers family--and about Edrailians in general as Emergence Day approaches.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Prologue.

From the personal log of General Joseph E. Colton,

Commanding Officer of Special Counter-Terrorist Group Delta (G.I. Joe)

_The events of this past July, concerning the joint United Nations/Cobra investigation of the Meteor Menace, yielded more than the known conclusion given to the public at large._

_But also during this dubious venture and it was discovered that Humanity is not alone in the Universe…_

_They call themselves Edrailians, an Elvish- humanoid race that have been in residence on this planet for Fifteen-hundred years and breeding freely with Humanity--resulting in a Hybrid form who call themselves 'Mixes'. These beings, the most readily available Edrailians seen, can pass for human in appearance but with the exception of their large tapered ears--which come in as many shapes and sizes as Human ears do._

_Notable examples of these beings encountered were;_

_ Lisa Hawkern; Notable Pin-up Model and Porn Star. CEO of the StarCrosser Model and Talent Agency._

_ Donnie Thomas Ayers; Professor of Cybernetic and Engineering Theory. CEO of Ayers' Aerospace._

_ Kimball Clarke Wildman; Highly talented scientist and physician. Fugitive from the Classified Warlock Design Facility for the past Twenty Years._

_It was in the effort to prevent Wildman from joining the Cobra Organization that we became acquainted with the Edrailian Existence. The entire pretense of his joining Cobra was a ruse to get to Cobra Island to search for survivors of an Edrailian Shuttle (known as a Jumper) that were believed to be held in Cobra custody. It was the crash of this very Shuttle that set off the world-wide panic, known as the Meteor Madness._

_Unfortunately, as revealed by Cobra Commander himself while under the influence of Wildman's 'Persuader', a device used by all Edrailians to mask their true heritage, there were no survivors from the shuttle's crash. _

_Besides the revelation of Wildman's true purpose on Cobra Island to myself, and recruited British Operative Angelica (Angel) Drummond, at the same time was also revealed to G.I. Joe Operative Duke and his hastily assembled team upon their rescue from the very ill-designed water assault craft, The Lowrider, by TOM; essentially a reconditioned Edrailian Powered Armored Suit-System 'built' by Professor Ayers when he was eleven years old. (Note: More on TOM later in this Log.)_

_Considering the circumstances, and possible effects, I have personally elected to withhold the Edrailian involvement in the MIDSUMMER NIGHT Affair from nearly all whom I serve in the United States Government and Military, with an exception of a very few who I know can be trusted with keeping such incredible information secret until the time when the Edrailians will reveal themselves to Humanity._

_As part of the preparations for this, the Edrailians have graciously allowed both myself and small teams of G.I. Joe Operatives full run of their facilities—specifically Ayers Aerospace in the Southern California desert and the Exploratory Society just outside of Langley, Virginia. This is a clear effort on their part to defuse any 'Alien Invasion' beliefs and other possible attempts at Global Domination, and I do welcome their honesty in these efforts. But as of this time, none have seen the Main Edrailian Colony known as Glacier Valley, the reported birthplace of both Wildman and Ayers, in northern Montana, or any other Edrailian colonies around the World._

_This Log is a record of my visit with the Ayers Family in their home just outside the Ayers Aerospace facility._

_General J. R. Colton._

Chapter One:

Lisa.

As I comfortably situate myself upon the antiquated leather couch in the spacious living room of the sprawling Ayers' Mediterranean-style home, built atop, and along the sides, of a long and low mesa five miles to the south of the Ayers Aerospace facility, Lisa Ayers approaches me pushing along a tea server while wearing a white baggy loose-fitting shirt, standard gray sweat-pants (of no particular brand), and, I swear, large fuzzy orange slippers.

I'm also certain that she's wearing nothing else under that ensemble. I wont ask, just assume.

But then, _this is_ _Lisa Hawkern_; greatly notorious for a wide variety of sexual dalliances and the founder and owner of a production company that not only markets such 'entertainment' but produces it as well--along with more 'acceptable' forms of entertainment and advertising. What's even more surprising is the fact that she's married, with five children and one grandchild, to Professor Donnie Ayers. Their polar dynamics are just too far apart to even take such a pairing seriously, but perhaps Edrailians have their own way of living.

And _it's_ a happy marriage.

She also makes it quite plain that this meeting is 'business' only.

. "I'll never do such things at home", she begins with a rye smile "unless it's with Donnie. Otherwise, he allows me my vices, and I let him have his."

With that past, she proceeds to serve the coffee, and then to the books already piled on the low table before us.

"So, you'd like to know more about us?" she smiles.

"It's purely academic." I casually reply. "Considering that we know so very little about any of you beyond the known."

"Well," She still smiles "let me see if I can expand on that."

From the pile on the table before us, Hawkern takes the first one from the top.

She's well prepared for this

"We've known each other since early childhood." She starts explaining while opening the book. "And we've remained close, despite all that's occurred."

The ones in the book Hawkern is showing me literally pop-up in three dimensions once the page is flattened out, showing a group class photo of small children sitting on a bleacher. Right off, there's Wildman with thick bushy long black hair and unusual gold flaked eyes, looking just as out of place on the face of a four year old as they do now.

"Kim's had a very unusual upbringing, as you might say." Hawkern begins. "His Mother died soon after his birth from complications—he was single born, with no other brothers or sisters—and right after the first month his Father started 'training' him for his future."

Unusual in deed. Usually such is reserved for fictional heroes in far-flung literally adventures and comic books. But, as Hawkern explained, Kim's Father _wanted _him to be exactly like that; a hero in every definition of the word.

"By the time we entered pre-school together, Kim was already able to perform surprisingly complex physical and mental feats. But lacked terribly in social interaction. With his nose buried in so many books, and involved in so many simulations, he really didn't have much of a clue of how to deal with people. I guess that's why the Teachers worked with him so much, so that he could learn how to interact with others his own age."

"There's Donnie." Hawkern points out a small and frail boy sitting at the very far right, wearing large lensed glasses, holding what appears to be an inhaler delicately in his small hands. He's the only one of the group in short pants, wearing a black necktie.

"He almost didn't get in." she continues. "He had a very bad asthma attack prior to this picture being taken. So bad, he dropped his Inhaler during the attack and couldn't reach it to save his life. Kim saved him while everyone else just stood there frozen."

She quiet, gazing at the picture for several minutes in reflection—reliving that frightening moment before snapping out of it and pointing to the center.

"My sister and I." She then reveals; two identically twin girls with identically styled long golden hair, white dresses with lace, seated together in the center of the bleachers—one making a goofy face by smiling idiotically with eyes crossed, the other seated to the right more formal and reserved.

"You're the silly one I take it?"

"I started at a young age." She easily confesses before continuing in a serious tone. "We were the Children of Nobility and Notability, a very select group. This one was luckier than most, but we had our share of fatalities down through the years."

"Fatalities?" I wondered. Children in harms way always puts me on the defensive; some would call this a 'weakness' while others would praise me for having strong moral fiber. But Hawkern's statement had me utterly astounded.

"Yes, General—_Deaths._" She begins explaining with a simple nod of her head. "We're a Feudal society. In spite what people will think of us, due to what we are, violent schemes and dangerous intrigues are common occurrences between Houses and Industrial Magnates, with the occasional free radical group seeking to topple it all for the sake of establishing their agenda. Places, allies, family, even the children are all targets utilized to cause schism and change that'll either weaken or strengthen a particular group or alliance."

Once again, she points at the picture, this time in the upper left corner where a boy and girl with identically high foreheads sit, while facing me. "Those two were murdered soon after this picture was taken. Seven more died along the way to adulthood, and five after passing adulthood—including my sister.

"Kim, Donnie…myself, have suffered loss—especially Donnie and I. A Son-in-Law and Granddaughter were killed three years ago in an effort to force Donnie out of the bidding for a highly prized Repair and Refurbishment contract. It wasn't the first time the family was assaulted; years ago such an attack is the reason why Donnie's cybernetic.

"Nor do we believe the threat has ended, we're always on guard." She adds with a sad sigh, "Already there are maneuverings among the Magnates to scoop up as much business as possible when we _Emerge_. Security here and everywhere else will be beefed up shortly. But, still, it'll never enough."

This fact is rammed home for me which each class picture I see. Because as I watch them grow, I easily see those who didn't make it. Besides the two Hawkern pointed out to me, there's a red-headed boy with tasseled hair and a meek-looking girl with straight black hair who don't appear in the following picture.

A few pictures later, it's a black child with a high forehead and toothy grin.

One picture after that, a bald boy with a perpetually bored look on his face.

Then there's the very pert looking girl whose red hair simply flows down either side of her smiling face…Then an oriental child with intelligent eyes…

I had to pause for a few moments, feeling overwhelmed by the fact that they never survived their childhood—but able to keep the grief I feel to myself so not to alarm Hawkern.

Another book, another series of pictures…

Now, a more mature and dashingly handsome Kimball Wildman is standing face to face with Liza Hawkern. He's smiling down to the absolutely identical twin seated next to me, though her fair hair is far longer, holding to her what appears to be a ring...

An _engagement ring_. The scene in the picture vividly reminds me of a fairytale Princess falling in love with her Prince…

As it turns out, I wasn't wrong.

"This happened just after Kim and Donnie returned from schooling in England." Hawkern explained. "Right before surprising her, me, and everyone else in the room, with a marriage proposal."

_Surprised? _I couldn't really say that in the very least; for in several of the books, there are numerous pictures of them together walking hand in hand on forested paths and mountain trails, playing at numerous parties and parlor games either with others or by themselves, training themselves with numerous weapons and marital combat techniques, and some while they're tourists abroad. Some of the locations I do not recognize, but among other things there are shots of Kenya's grassy savanna plains and several European historical sites. As she is showing me these pictures, Hawkern speaks vividly of how her sister would pine and worry every day Wildman was away at school.

"I figured another year, maybe two. It definitely wrecked my plans, to say the least, because I was hoping to have him…_Oh, it just floored me!_"

For a few moments, she appears to be genuinely resentful towards her sister over this. But this stance softens as she goes on.

"Of course, Donnie's been fond of me ever since pre-school. His chronic asthma kept me well beyond arms length from him for years for fear of catching what he had, even though he got better with medications and by playing wind instruments—which greatly helped improve his lung strength."

_Wind Instruments? _Ayers being musical were really surprising, I've never would have figured him to even be musical in the slightest way…

"Oh yes." Hawkern nods to me smiling. "First, it was Recorders1. Then various Horns, Trumpets, a Clarinet, before finally he settled on the Alta-Saxophone. He can play both Jazz and Blues expertly, as well as various forms of Latin American Swing. Occasionally, when he has some free time, he'll go up on the roof and play—if the area's secure enough. There are numerous tales of Him and Kim playing the small clubs around Printell and Cambridge, even in Paris, for the spare change to pay for the incidentals they needed to get through their Term's.

"Noel, our first son, is afflicted with the same problem as Donnie was. Following the same advice, Donnie helped him in the same manner. Now, he's very good at playing Mariachi music on the Trumpet. Even earns himself some spare change, just like his father did."

Hawkern herself, along with second oldest daughter, Karry, plays the Piano. But not as well as her daughter, due to a lack of practice. This same daughter, like Wildman, also plays the Guitar, and does so for her son, Juan. But she prefers the Acoustic Guitar over the Electric ones that Wildman can play with expert abandon2. As for the younger members of the family; Fred, Fredia, and Grandson Juan, they are learning and have yet to settle on a choice instrument.

Only the oldest daughter, Kitt, isn't musical. This is due, as I will later witness, to a severe nervous disorder.

During the course of our conversation, we eventually come to the events surrounding her marriage to Donnie Ayers.

This causes a smile comes across her face while she remembers. "That was perhaps my wildest adventure, outside of all the gunfights and sex I've been in." After setting her coffee cup down, she begins; "Just like Earth-bound Nobility, it's the nature of Edrailian Noble Houses to marry off sons and daughters to other Noble Houses, regardless of their size, in the effort to strengthen ties with allies, compacts, and agreements— whatever…

"In my case, since Liza was already married to Kim by then, it was part of an agreement made to a Minor Noble House to lessen the cost of a recently discovered crop of vital raw materials needed for the building of Spacedrive Systems, as opposed to their risky and more expensive nuclear re-manufacture. These elements are highly important in the construction of key drive components, which allow ships to fly across the Galaxy without being subject to the effects of Time Dilation. Donnie can explain the whole effect and everything concerning it from beginning to end, but simply put; these components enable a ship to travel faster than light in relative time without the adverse effect of returning to meet your friends and loved ones who during the course of your cosmic travels have become far older than you--or any of your descendents.

"My Father figured that with my marriage into this House he'd be able to purchase these raw materials for a reduced cost for his House Fleet. However, that particular Minor Noble wasn't too overly bright. He allowed this boon to go right to his head, managing to bankrupt not only himself and his House before the quality of these sought after elements could be figured out. His eldest son, whom I was to marry, wasn't much better. Upon seeing me that first time, couldn't stop drooling or following me all over the _place_3.

"Quite frankly, I couldn't stand it and wanted out of the _deal_4.

"But my complaints over this went unheeded, because nobody wanted to interfere with this agreement. Those whom I had relationships with wouldn't help me, or even answer my calls. Kim himself gave me a very stern lecture on the importance of what was expected of me in this matter, and on the importance of securing the rights to those elements which were far more important in the long run than how I felt on the matter.

"After that, I very much considered suicide. Really, it wasn't worth being married to that creep. At least, he wouldn't be able to touch my body after my death. But, I really wouldn't have put it past him to be a Necrophine…

She pauses for a few moments, as if considering what she's just said. And after putting it aside, continues; "It was about a week before the marriage, and I, kept secure in my room at my future In-Laws opulent residence, building up the urge to kill myself, when Donnie appears. He, sent by his Father, was trying to land a contract for those same materials for their business that I was about to be sacrificed for. Normally, it would have been his father doing the task, but he was called away to oversee a hotly contested consulting matter.

"It had been years since we last spoken, and he was quite nervous considering it was his first business deal. But as he listened to my plight in the privacy of that room, I could tell that he was not only moved but wanted to help me escape. Only he wasn't able to, due to what it would do to his family. But after his meeting with my could have been Father-in-Law, he openly confessed to me that there was something not really honest with the deal as a whole and he needed at least three days to do some deep checking of matters that clearly bothered him.

"Well, he finally got back to me with mere hours to go. His father had been murdered, arranged by a Competitor to the Consultation Project, which not only bound-up his time but also placing him in charge of Ayers' Aerospace. That left him free to act as he pleased, thought there were a few touchy moments with his Mammeele5, who runs the _entire_ family business— including Ayers' Aerospace …

"He came in the disguise of a confused delivery rep, with a very large package on a wheeled cart for me. I at the time was very much ready to blow my brains out, and when he revealed himself (after disposing of the Guards that followed him in with a Flash-gun), I wasted five minutes yelling at him for making me wait so long. After that, he revealed to me that not only were the vital elements in question not in that great supply, but what there was was of such poor quality that refining would produce a far less yield than needed for proper use. He also managed to discover that if the wedding went ahead there would be hell to pay; since the House I was being married into had so badly bankrupted itself the resulting bailout alone would've drug it and many other Allied Houses into serious financial depression.

"The sad fact about all this was that nobody, not even Kim, believed what Donnie found out. They figured he was so upset over his Father's murder he was delusional, for some utterly odd reason. So, he took it upon himself to rescue me.

"That large package he wheeled in contained a doll almost identical to me, but I simply wanted out of there fast. So after dealing with the Guards, he got me in the box and wheeled me out of the place with none of them being the wiser. By the time they were, we were safely on the verge of going luminal in the Angelstar. There was no way they could stop us."

She finishes the tale with a smile of triumph on her face, while idlely rolling the coffee cup in her hands…

Then she settles down to a more reflective mood.

"After solving the murder of his Father, and dealing with Mammeele, Donnie and I were married in a small ceremony. Soon afterward, an official edict was issued by Father stating that I was no longer Family and held no claim to the House Throne. It wouldn't have mattered, the Edict was irreversible. Even when the financial matter was finally uncovered, by Kim of all people, Father refused to reverse the Edict. But he was lenient with Ayers, letting them continue to operate their business concerns in his domain."

"Not that it matters anymore." She adds in slightly sullen tones. "I know this'll sound unusual, but I really don't miss the Noble life at all."

After a sip of coffee, she explains why; "One would think otherwise, due to the power, the poshness, the great reach and wealth. But those are simply the invisible bars of the cage they live in; shackled hand-to-foot by their titles, and kept where they are by the illusion of being in control of everything when in fact they really aren't.

"I'm glad my children know what it's like to be free. It's not wealth, or power, but to be actually being free of those burdens and expectations that are placed upon you because _you have been_ born to carry on the 'noble' line. And never be used as Pawns, then discarded with the situation deems it necessary to the parents advantage."

_There is without doubt the fact that after 'Emergence Day' occurs, the Edrailians will be considered by every known measure to be 'Gods above Us' by the aspect of their existence…_

_That, as I learn, will never be the case. In more ways than one…_

_Greenmailing…_

Most have never herd of it, and I happened to have been one of them.

It's a variant of the Corporate Raid strategy of Asset Stripping, but with a rye twist. Instead of completing the take-over by solidifying control of the target company, the Greenmailer instead offers to sell the shares back to the company, but at a highly inflated price. Given the '_Monkey see-Monkey do_' characteristics of the Stock Market, the Greenmailer actually insures themselves a significant profit because their initial buying action actually spurs other investors to try getting shares on the same stock—which they see as a '_must-have_' due to its increasing popularity. But when the Greenmailer either successfully gets the Company in question to buy back its stock, or simply dumps in back on the market, the price of the Stock falls rapidly--leaving the company in question on the verge of collapse with impoverished shareholders.

It's dirtier than Blackmail. And without the risk of prison.

The Edrailian version tends to be twice as vicious with the level of violence involved, as Hawkern begins the tale of how her husband came to be what he is now.

"Several of our more promenade investors had been secretly backing a competing Astrospace Corporation, a recent start-up lacking any real credit, experience or customers to turn some ill-gotten gains into honest cash and maintain their honest front."

I nodded, understanding what was going on. The term is Laundering; the criminal act of creating a legitimate business so to convert monies gained through illegal activities into legitimate cash through investment in the legal business.

"They tried pressuring Donnie into selling out to them, and he kept blowing them off. They tried a Greenmail scam, and discovered that all of their stock combined couldn't even scratch all that the Family had.

"They made threats, very vivid threats. But Donnie countered them by threatening to make their stock worthless by issuing new stock to the remaining holders, which is perfectly legal for us to do in such matters. And none of them had the nerve to even try touching the Family. So, they came up with the ideal of Donnie having a fatal accident; thinking then they could make me, while in my grief, to give them the company for a _'comfortable price'_."

"It almost worked…" she adds, before becoming quiet in a reflective sort of way on what could have happened.

"Sorry." She then embarrassedly says. "This was the closest I've ever come to loosing Donnie. Kitt and Karry were both four years old at the time, and Noel was four months away from being born. But even with the Family's help, I don't know if I could have made it without Donnie."

Now she takes several minutes to compose herself. It's very telling how this incident has affected her, for she acts as if she did loose her husband.

Then, she quietly begins…

"Donnie had gone down to the Amazon facility. There'd been trouble with an Auto-Bore, and the usual inspector was too ill to travel.

"They were trying to rewire the things' system, when a concealed Acidic Bomb went off. Military Spec, the acid is highly caustic designed not to leave a trace of whatever it destroyed without any shrapnel to piece together.

"Despite being behind several people, some bigger and thicker than he was, Donnie was still splashed with a heavy amount. That he's still alive is a testament to the Safety Personnel working the area at the time. They had him hosed down and on life support with in fifteen minutes.

"But he was mangled…The arms…The legs…His entire body and some of his internal organs—and other parts because the whole couldn't be saved.

"When his Grandparents herd, they were in route at once with the Prosthetic-Construct body he uses to this very day. They also tried warning me about this group that had been trying to buy us out, but after getting the news I was too far out of it to think straight.

"Like I said, it _almost_ worked."

After a brief moment of staring into her empty coffee cup, she continues. "There were seven of them, all neat and slick in their business attire, giving me 'symphony' while handing me paper after paper to sign. Which, with my mind in a blur, I automatically did. Then Mammeele and Abba6, burst into the room with guns blazing; she with her Colts and he with his old Thompson, and didn't stop until all seven of them were dead. Later, when my head finally did clear, they told me what was _really_ going on."

After a pause, Hawkern holds up her left hand with thumb and forefinger very close together.

"I came this close." She tells me, "This close to giving them all they wanted. The Tech that was too ill to travel was paid handsomely by them _not_ to travel. And that other company was soon no more."

"Government takes a very dim view of those sorts of tactics." I remark.

"Oh, it's much worse than that." Hawkern seriously explains. "It's not unusual to hear of a House or smaller Principality being taken over by a Corporation, or vice-versa. Or, that a Corporation has managed to exert influence over a House or Principality—or vice-versa. There are many rulers who worry and rigorously fear the unrestrained growth of Corporations and their influence with in their territories, and have passed laws that strictly limit or completely contain their reach.

"Even we suffer under such laws, but that occurs in areas already under the influence of a Corporate competitor who managed to worm their way deeply into the core of the House Court or Ruling Family. Mammeele constantly fights this snubbing and paranoia as often as she has kids, which is practically perpetual in her case. She's won some, lost some—and has had to grit her teeth and compromise with others. All in all, Spacecraft isn't a pleasant business to be in

She pauses again in another reflective mood, but this time she is more composed than before.

"Putting Donnie back together again, "she says, "_That_ was a challenge."

She leans towards the assorted albums, taking the one with the crème colored cover which she then carefully positions while opening.

The pictures on the first page show a gun-metal gray skull, slightly humanoid in appearance, with neither eyes or a jaw in place but instead it attached to a moderately sized bendable case of the same color by means of a flexible neck. There are numerous tubes and hoses attached all-over, namely where the mouth would be and at the bottom end of the case, and electrical cords plugged into the sides of the skull.

"This is Donnie right after the transplant surgery." Hawkern explains. "All of the useable surviving organs, and the artificial replacements, are all encased in _that_. There have been very few who have undergone such a significant transformation and survive to _that_ point and beyond."

It's easy to see. Looking at these first pictures, I am reminded of seriously injured soldiers who've suffered extensive burns in combat causing the loss of limbs and other significant portions of their bodies.

But in the following pictures, I see Ayers being assembled. Beginning with what can only be described as a Torso and Pelvis Assembly that completely encases the Organ Case, to which arms and eventually legs are fitted before the entire body is covered with an elaborate replica of bodily muscle from foot to head. At this point, there is a jaw and eyes set in the skull. With the artificial muscle fiber finally in place, he resembles a skinned human being.

Then there is this simple picture that stands out in my mind. It's not of Ayers learning the walk, or use the cybernetic enhancements, or of him finally looking human with the Pseudo-Flesh covering. The picture in question is of him holding his new born son, Noel, wrapped in a blue blanket, as his wife and twin daughters look on.

It's amazing how fortunate he is.

I feel envious, after a fashion.

But as Hawkern explains, there were even greater problems for him to surmount…

"One of the most complex problems suffered by those who have undergone a massive body conversion like this, is _Psychological Detachment Disorder_." She explains. "The Theory is that all living things actually interact more deeply with Nature on a subconscious level by what they feel around them at all times.

"Hot, cold, wet, dry, rough, smooth, sharp, dull—_everything that can be_ _felt,_ in the physical range of things. These sensory inputs from those receptive nerves in our skin tell us a great deal about what's around us and guide us in how we react. This also effects our subconscious by way of 'telling' us that everything's 'fine', 'normal', 'happy'—whatever.

"Well, in the situation where one looses enough of their body, as in Donnie's case, the subconscious begins to feel 'isolated' and starts 'yearning' for that continuous stimulus. This begins effecting one's ability to perceive reality, creating a psychoneurotic state that can range from intense depression, to violent hysteria and even psychological delusion in the most extreme sense of the word.

"And definitely, you never want to face a mentally out-of-control cyborg ever." Hawkern concludes with absolute certainty.

"So the Pseudo-Flesh helps keep him mentally stable?" I asked, finding my self fascinated by the subject—due to numerous experiences with seriously burned individuals.

"Indeed." Hawkern nods surely. "There's enough for him to keep his mental bearings, and not impede the use of any built-in equipment."

_It is plainly clear; Lisa Hawkern is a woman with no regrets concerning her life. _

_Both her children and grandchild are safely out of the harsh light placed upon Edrailian Nobility. But only to a point. Pictures of their slain granddaughter and son-in-law, placed proximately up on the mantle, are testament to the fact that they live a precarious existence…_

_There are other 'things' I am not including here, some of which involve excerpts of Lisa Hawkern's rather rowdy lifestyle (before and after her marriage), and how 'well equipped' her husband is now…Especially when it comes into all the tings his new body is capable of, with regards to combat and communications. Let's just say that they can continue to have children in the way the good Lord intended them to and leave it at that._

_But, the one thing that is clearly unusual about this 'stable' marriage is the fact that Professor Ayers allows his wife to do what she does. Honestly, such behavior would easily destroy the marriage in every sense of the term. To that, Lisa Hawkern just smiles and says, "He allows me my freedoms, and I give him his. What matters the most is that we know and trust each other very well, especially knowing the other's ability to control the situation they're in."_

_Unusual in every sense of the term, but it works for them._

_However, Hawkern reveals that not all is well as Emergence Day approaches._

"_There's a feeling of helplessness and desperation seated amongst us living here, General. It grows as that Day approaches, and I fear the worst will occur in spite all our preparedness to prevent it from occurring."_

_It's very unnerving to be hit with something like this, and I am aware of the possibilities that can occur after such an occurrence. But I also know very well that despite the best plans it wouldn't take too much for a regretful calamity to occur._

1 This would otherwise known as a _Flute, _though it resembles a small _Clarinet_--C

2 From what I'm able to understand, Wildman's collection contains several, and extremely rare, Gibson Les Paul's ( known as 'Gold Top's due to their color schemes), Fender Telecaster's, early Ibanez (which are copies of the Gibson Les Paul 'Gold Top's') , two 1933 Beauchamp 'Frying Pan' lap guitars, and a Audiovox guitar from the mid-1930's--C

3 She said this with extra emphasis--C

4 Again, with extra emphasis--C

5 Edrailian for _Grandmother_

6 Abba "Al" Ayers, Professor Ayers Grandfather. More on him later on—C.

16


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Children—Kitt.

_Kitt Ayers is, by only a few moments, the oldest of the 'first twins', as Lisa Hawkern calls her first born. Twins and Triplets are far more common amongst the Edrailians than Single births. And by this, Kitt is the oldest child of the Family_

_Who lives in a closeted world of her own…_

_She is by all appearances a younger version of her Mother, but with much longer golden blond hair and darker skin inherited from their Moorish Grandmother, who spends her time alone with Cybernetic operational systems (as robots are usually called here), and translating ancient Edrailian Texts stored in the molecular structure of crystal rods (as an advanced form of informational storage)._

_But, trying to speak with her about what she does for Ayers Aerospace, (largely consultation and design work for it any other Family concerns), can be in itself a trying experience for those without patience._

Hawkern leads me down into the heart of the Mesa by private elevator, then down three short corridors that lead to a silver door that in turn leads into a highly sophisticated machine shop and laboratory with silver walls, floor, worktables and numerous shelving. The only things that break up his color scheme in this long steel-colored rectangular room are the tan computers with their numerous black screened monitors situated around the room, a large tool rig hanging down from the ceiling like some bizarrely huge spider, and the black padded swivel chairs along the walls. The back third closed off into some sort of special room where I can see numerous shelving containing several metal cases.

This, Hawkern explains, is Kitt's only other personal room besides her bedroom.

As we enter, Kitt Ayers is dressed in a white one-piece work smock with her long blond hair tied back in a large bun and wearing safety goggles, is busily dealing with the internals of one of her many 'Bot's', though the one in question looks like a real human child. In fact, she's so absorbed in her work she not even aware of our close presence to her, in spite all the noise we made, until her Mother taps her lightly on the shoulder—which not only results in Kitt jumping like she'd been shocked but also sends numerous small tools flying throughout the room.

It's not intentional, as Hawkern explained to me; she has suffered through several traumatic experiences early in her life. And has reverted to seeking solace by burying herself in her work. Unfortunately, this has cost her the ability to socialize, even with her very Family, comfortably.

After a few minutes of calming her down, she appears somewhat at ease. But sits nervously even with her Mother close by.

"My-my worksssin ther-oy, andhell-ping the textsss fromthe F-fam-lee are-chives." She tries explaining, half-stuttering and forcing the words out which results in the smaller words being jammed together in a nearly unrecognizable mess. "Butbut, I-I'm wor-king onmy Bots'"

She motions to the one she was working on,; a pointed-jawed female, child-like in appearance but scaled with adult proportions, with it's red hair styled up in a pompadour with two long tendrils of hair sweeping downward at the temples she identifies as 'Priss', who's developed a fault in her breathing system which mimics human breathing to remove excess heat from delicate internal systems before they're damaged by it.. Its chest is opened, exposing internal workings that bare a close resemblance to actual human organs that are made from composite plastics and metals instead of flesh.

She then glances at her Mother, wondering what to do next.

"It's alright." Hawkern gently tells her with a warm smile, which encourages Kitt to continue.

"I-I built them asa child." She continues, smiling while nervously working her hands in her lap. "Ma-modeled af-ter an-anime car-toon char-caters. The littleones ha-ave them nowas their com-pan-ins, andI tendto them 'winIcan. Eachis…k-able of indy-pendant thought andaction, butonly within care-fully de-finded terms."

"Like laws?" I ask, wondering about similar standards. Her rapid nod gave me my answer before she even spoke it.

"The-the lawsare sim-u-lar to As-a-moff's, butbut aremore ex-sten-sive indetail concerning thesystems' a-bill-i-tee to re-act in num-er-us sit-u-rat-ions. Itit gives them the a-bill-i-tee toboth learn and mod-dee-fy their be-have-yer a-cord-dingy."

Simply, they are artificially intelligent and self-aware.

Such mechanisms aren't unusual among Edrailians, (as I will find out when meeting TOM later on), and do manage themselves when in Society. But there are those who 'go rogue' becoming criminal, either through the tampering of their base programming, or through abuse…

"Itit's really alllearned be-have-yer." Kitt explains. "No diff-rent from act-u-well child-ren."

_It's hard to believe, but Kitt Ayers is a genius._

_At fourteen, she entered Cal-Tech, and within two years had graduated at the ahead of her class as Valedictorian. By age twenty, she had already and fully earned her Master's in both Cybernetic Theory and Quantum Physics at Cambridge University, England. I'm not entirely sure how well her Thesis presentations, which are requirements in both cases, went but on the whole they must have been accepted in spite of her impaired speech. _

_But during that time, Kitt was never too far away from protection—both physical and psychological._

_"She has suffered greatly from experiencing numerous traumatic events." Hawkern earlier explained. "She and her sister were present with me at the climax to the Takeover attempt, and had witness the deaths of several childhood playmates killed in various attacks. To escape from it, she buried herself into her 'work', and never emerged."_

One of the more interesting facets of the laboratory are the Crystals, located in the secured portion of the lab I noticed earlier. There are several such cases, carefully stacked in thirty library shelves set along the back wall of the room. Estimating the size of the case, to the amount that each case holds to the number of cases currently stored, and adding to the fact the form in which the information is stored creates an archive of staggering proportions which could easily overwhelm the largest library in existence.

They are the size of what are called 'Finger Drives', or 'Flash Drives'; small ultra-slim sticks perfectly clear and diamond-like in appearance that are computer hard drives in their own right because they use the very atomic structure of the Chrystal it is used to store the information. Each are set snugly on their sides in the dark foam interior of a slim lockable case that holds some one hundred of those sticks each

"T-these that I-I'm wor-king-on now arewhat youwood call an En-cy-lo-pe-di-a." Kitt explains, with a subtle but nervous jester of her hand. "They're relics from the Or-signal World. What th-air is here, con-sists ofall thatwas known atthe time ofthe De-par-ture."

_Edrail,_ the ancient Homeworld of the Edrailians, located in the middle ring of the Andromeda Galaxy. If what I have herd concerning the amount of time they have been in this Galaxy is true, then what I am looking at is far older that current human civilization.

"I-I've man-aged toget t-two fullshelves done." Kitt proudly adds. "Sofar…M-My workfor Fa-Father and Fam-Family takes pres-a-dent. Though."

It was perfectly understandable; this portion of her work was essentially for personal satisfaction. But I have no doubt that her parents support this venture, since translating records form the past can tell us in the present _what is _possible in the future, it also gives us a clear view of how we came to be where we currently are as a civilization.

Undoubtedly, there is an interest in knowing their past, why else would these crystals be kept and protected as they are.

Such understanding, then lead me to ask; "What have you found so far?"

She then takes a few moments to compose herself, which includes worried glances to her Mother. Leaving me to wonder if I've been too forward in asking the question…

It's only after encouraging words from her Mother that she answers, "W-What I-I've lo-cated sofar p-port-ons of hiss-toric tomes…and-and…other things…"

Now she's really nervous, and blushing terribly. So much so that her Mother comes over to see what is wrong.

After a few moments of hurried whispering, a very surprised Hawkern turns to me as replies; "Apparently amongst the literary sections there's some very explicit works of erotica, both in literary and visual form."

I haft to admit, that in spite of years of experience in avoiding such pitfalls I will, and do, occasionally '_put my foot into it_'. Once my apologies are accepted (initially, it was politely refused because my question about what was on the Crystals was an 'expected' one), Kitt begins discussing the other subjects she's come across; information concerning ancient star systems1, their native inhabitants (on all levels), art works and various designs in deep space propulsion and their levels of power proficiency, especially beyond the Luminal (Speed of Light) range, and their subsequent effects upon various ship designs of the time. Much of this, I freely admit, goes beyond my ability to understand. But what I am able to understand involves the fact that every design, be it for Space or transference from Space to a Planetary Body, must adhere to the basic principal of what Kitt refers to as _Balance_.

All Spacecraft designs must take into account the amount of constant stress that is placed upon the vehicle's entire structure during flight. Not only from bombardment of various micro-particles and radiations, but also from the operations of the engines themselves either from pushing the craft (in the standard 'In-Line' rear mounted configuration) or from 'pulling' it by way of engines mounted on nacelle projections situated either in the midsection of the vessel or in some unusual instances out from the vessel's front.

In listening to this portion of what Kitt Ayers has so far uncovered from the storage crystals, it becomes apparent from what I have so far understood about the Ayer's Family 'Business' that Kitt's work on this avenue is far more important that I've originally perceived it to be. Since through such study, they would achieve a clearer ideal of these foundation concepts, and apply them accordingly to the ships they work on…

After the explanations on technical matters, one question comes to the forefront of my mind. It's one I dread asking, but her mother set the wheels in motion.

I have to know who she feels on the matter.

"Given what the future holds, what are your feelings concerning Emergence Day?"

Kitt silently stares at me before looking away to her Mother. Its five minutes before she answers, as composed as she could ever get under the circumstances.

"Isee it…asan…e-vent-u-al-i-tee t-that was b-bound to hap-pen. One which grr-rew s-stron-ger astime passed…Itit doze nogood wishing it a-way…

"I…I hope thingsdon't be-be-come hor-i-ble…I…I hope."

Kitt Ayers looks a little fearful, sitting nervously while rubbing her hands slowly while seemingly appear to shrink in her seat as a frightened child would. As I remain a gracious and considerate outward appearance, inwardly I am worried as well.

But as she herself said, it was bound to happen.

1 These are located in the Andromeda Galaxy--C

6


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Children; Fred, Fredia, and Juan.

_It is a prerogative of all species to 'Go forth upon the land and multiply'._

_In the case of the Edrailian Mixes, they do so in such rapid bounds; producing twins and triplets as commonly as Humans would commonly produce single children._

_But after Fifteen-hundred years, Twelve-hundred of which with Human 'interaction', they've only been able to explore, populate, and exploit only twenty percent of the Milky Way Galaxy as a whole. The reasons are many, largely owing to the need to consolidate both available resources and communication links amongst established worlds. To continually push outward would eventually lead to a structural breakdown of infrastructure due to the strain of maintaining these vital lines of support in the face of such rapid growth. _

_Realistically speaking, it's no different than the establishments of Forts along the growing American frontier from the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries or the Garrisons established by the Roman Empire during its expansion throughout Africa, Europe, and the Middle East. Even with ships powerful enough to cross the vastness of Space, they still need places for repair, resupply, and contact with Home._

_There is also War and other schisms that work to retard advancement. Lisa Hawkern herself stated their society is Feudal, no different than the Kingdoms of Medieval Europe or Asia. With them, as it is with the Edrailians, they lived with the constant fear of assassination of themselves and their families due to the intrigues of the time…_

_So I am not at all surprised at seeing the youngest members of the Ayers Family practicing their firearms skills at a private shooting range. _

They're in the standard Shooter's stance; feet apart, arms bent at the elbow while holding the pistol directly in front of them wearing hearing and eye protection. And through the glass of the lounge-cum-work area, the distinctive _pop-pop-pop_ of small caliber rounds being fired rapidly from three different stations comes through dimly.

Personally, I have nothing against children learning how to safely handle firearms. Some of my fondest childhood memories were of going on hunting trips with my Father and Uncles, and they made certain that I knew what I was doing with regards to safety before they ever allowed me to even go along with them. But ever since Vietnam, and seeing the news footage from the wars occurring in Africa, seeing children with military weaponry, any weaponry real or fake, disturbs me in a minor way.

Given the nature of Edrailian Society, such training is not only necessary but mandatory for their survival. And the survival of friends, family, and loved ones.

It is here that I am introduced to Karry Ayers, Kitt's identical twin sister, who also bears a nearly identical resemblance to her Mother—but without the darker skin tone of her sister. She is the Range Supervisor, watching as the children train with their weapons. A minute after our arrival, she looks at her watch and activates a flashing warning light above the targets. Seconds later, the shooting comes to a halt and the weapons are placed on the station's table. Once the weapons properly stored, they enter the lounge.

Fred and Fredia, being brother and sister, do share very identical appearances; namely light brown skin tone, blue eyes and oval eye shape, high foreheads, pixie noses, narrow face shape, and their father's brown hair color tied back into long pony-tails that display their mother's sweep-back pointed ears. They even wear nearly identical clothing; demin long-sleeved shirts, with Fred wearing denim pants while Fredia wearing a long demin skirt. Behind them is Juan, Karry's son and only surviving child of her first marriage. His Father's influences are clear in his brown skin, moderate forehead, small nose, round face and jet black hair with a long pony-tail as well that shows the Edrailian equivalent of jug-handled ears—which a just as pointed as well. He wears a white pull-over shirt with dark pants, and all of them are wearing slip on loafers. But of them all, Juan wears mirrored wrap-around glasses that completely cover over his eyes and brow.

This, Hawkern explained to me earlier, is a cybernetic visual aid which enables him to see. In the assassination attempt that killed his Father and twin sister, Juan's eyesight was damaged severely by the shockwave of the assassin's hypersonic dart and cannot have more permanent replacements for another eleven years, when he is sixteen, due to continued physical growth. Making him technically blind, but with the aid of the device he's still able to see after a fashion. He sits ramrod straight at the table were we all are seated at, opposed to his cousins were lead forward like typical children do.

And right off the bat, Fredia pops the question; "Are you _a real_ General?"

"Of the Joes?" Fred then quickly adds.

This causes me the smile. Granted, it's been a little over one hundred years since Generals wore beards of any kind. Mine; though neatly trimmed and gray in areas, I look anything like a modern military General.

"Yes," I easily introduce myself to them, "I am General Joseph E. Colton, Commanding Officer of the G.I. Joe Team."

This clearly excites Fred and Fredia, who quickly bombard me with all manner of questions, until both their mother and older sister manage to settle them down. (Well, they are five years old). Through this Juan remains still, stoic and reserved. The opposite from his cousin's explosive activity, the very activity that prevents me from getting a word to him.

"Yes," I answer, "we will be coming here; in fact there are a few Joes at your Father's facility already undergoing orientation. Your Father is currently helping us in matters dealing with Cobra, as is Prince Wildman…" The results of answering those questions, as I expected, only heightened Fred and Fredia's excitement towards asking more questions…

And still Juan didn't even participate.

His behavior put me in a difficult position. I would have liked for him to participate, clearly his Mother did too, but neither of us wanted to cause him embarrassment. But it appeared that he didn't want to join in.

He'd just sit there and stare, it appeared, with my features reflecting off of his visor's front…

"Juan." His Grandmother gently steps in (for which I am thankful for), "do you have any questions for General Colton?"

His head dips a little, the first time he's acknowledged anyone at the meeting.

"What would you like to ask him?' she continues.

For his credit, Juan doesn't flinch or become overly embarrassed with all of the attention directed at him. But his question is a very serious one.

"Do you believe that we'll become subjected to the will of the United Nations?"

I'll admit pausing in surprise at that. But even knowing that after Fifteen hundred years of witnessing the stronger overwhelming the weaker, the Edrailians are of the mind that the same can and will happen to them—especially after they reveal themselves. With regards to outright military force, this is clearly impossible on Humanity's part. But take-over's don't always rely on brute force; they can be staged quite easily through the tricky writing of agreements between them and any Global Organization. Certain clauses, written or included in a very underhanded manner, could easily trap them in some manner of servitude.

And controlling the power the Edrailians represent would be highly tempting to achieve for anyone. Especially Cobra Commander. But the answer to Juan's question needs to be significantly broader in coverage than that.

"I would be lying if I said that no such attempts would ever be made against you by any global institution. But, I also believe the United Nations would never risk it's global standing in such a blatantly aggressive manner—since you have not acted or have attempted to act in likewise a manner." I carefully began, "Cobra, as you well know, would attempt by every means necessary, and I do mean _necessary,_ such an act in the effort to establish a global dictatorship. Cobra Commander himself has been taking significant steps towards achieving such a goal, and will be in position to attempt it again in the near future. The Edrailian Emergence may derail those plans, but we're not sure to what degree."

"But it won't chase him away." Juan clearly asks.

While my attention is on Juan, I know the other two children are listening in as easily as the adults are. Not that I mind, since I wanted to focus on Juan at the moment…

But for his age, he is certainly perceptive.

"No, it won't chase him away." I honestly state. "Cobra Commander's too determined and committed to his Goals to allow anything to upset them for very long. His ability to adapt, if not alter, situations to his liking is very well known. There is no doubt in my mind that we will be dealing with him in the future.

"As for the United Nations," I continue, "they can only dominate _if they are allowed to be _though accords agreed upon, and willingly signed, between Edrailians and the U.N. I would like to think that either Lord Hawkern, or Prince Wildman, would need the contentious of the people before they would ever consider signing such a document."

"What's a Con-sent-such?" Fred suddenly queries me.

"A Ma-joy-itea." Fredia suddenly puts in.

(Remember, they are five years old. But I really couldn't hide the smile on my face just then.)

"Nor do I believe either of them would cave-in to any outside pressure to sign such an agreement." I conclude, "I just do not see it happening."

Juan sit's quietly with no indication of what I've said making much of an impact on him.

Then he asks, "Would you force them to?"

"No." I tell him. "I'd rather make friends than slaves."

"Even if ordered?"

I haft to admit, Juan's persistent. A very admirable trait.

"Never." I reply with a slow shake of my head. "There will be those who will insist that I do largely out of personal fear, just as there will be those that we defend and respect you as equals, and those who'll play on both sides of this argument so to exploit the situation for their own personal profit."

Fred and Freda both seem pleased by my explanation; Juan just nods his head slightly.

Then Freda turns to Juan, saying "See, I told you they wouldn't."

That, I haft to admit, was slightly embarrassing. Fortunately, Juan didn't rise to the occasion with a remark which would have possibly touched off an argument between them. All he did was to tip his head forward to me while politely saying, "Thank you."

_Fred and Fredia are as average as children their age get; excited by the prospect of what the future holds. Juan, though, is undeniably cautious. His questions were too direct and precise to be paranoid._

_But as I look at him, as my reflection stares back at me, I must wonder what kind of world he, his cousins, and every other Edrailian child will be growing up into after their existence is revealed. _

6


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The Children—Karry.

_As with the perfectly identical twins Xamot and Tomax, Kitt and Karry Ayers are virtually alike in physical appearance. _

_Karry Ayers though wears her hair short and in the same style as her Mother's, even her penchant for body-hugging clothing. But now, it's light brown baggy pants with an equally baggy tan shirt and short heeled boots._

_Nor does she share her sister's reclusiveness._

_But of all of them, excluding the youngest children, Karry does not have an active interest in the family's aeronautical business. Her role instead consists of being a jack of all trades, master of none. What she knows about the technologies is passable by both Edrailian and Human standards, which is why she gives herself the moniker; "A mechanically inclined Housewife and Mother, and former Porn Actress."_

Peeling myself away from the Children, or, more specifically, peeling them away from me, is successfully accomplished when Hawkern announces it's time for School Work. Like typical children facing such things, Fred and Freda began to baulk and whine as they plead for more time to spend with me. When I urge them to politely tend to their schoolwork, citing the fact that it would go a very long way towards helping them as adults understand the World that much better, they finally start to leave--but not before making me promise to see them again. To which I tactfully tied the fact that they had to do their schoolwork first. That among everything else was the deciding factor, and all hurriedly followed Hawkern after saying their good-byes.

"Thanks." Karry grins at me. "I was starting to run out of excuses to send them on their way."

"My pleasure." I smile back.

Given the fact that she has been standing for a while, it's unusual that she'd ask me to accompany her to the Garage.

"You may find it interesting. It's on our way to where TOM is." She explains. "You do wish to speak with him as well?"

It's my intention to speak with as many members of the Ayers' Family as possible, with TOM being considered such then by all means I'd like to speak with him as well. It should be fascinating.

But as we traveled to the destination, the conversation turns to Kitt's condition and the 'why' she was the way that she was. Karry's tone was largely sympatric, but also subdued. It was clear that she was greatly concerned for her sister, but at a loss as to what to do for her.

"I think its trauma, but I'm not really sure." Karry Ayers frankly tells me as we stroll down a corridor away from the shooting range. "Kitt and I went through a lot as tots. By _why_ she acting that way instead of me is a mystery."

Of the two oldest Ayers children, Karry looks the most identical to her mother, Lisa Hawkern. Same hair, same body and skin tone, same pointed chin, same upturned nose, same pouty lips and mouth—and a good many other things. But she is at least an inch taller, and not from her shoes, than her mother. And has from time to time stood in for her during various photo shoots and video productions.

"I tended to follow Mother's advice when performing." She wistfully smiles. "I know there are many disappointed clients who'd love to see '_wild_', '_sick_', and '_raunchy_'—but Mom runs a very tight and lawful ship, despite what people say about it.

"But I wasn't as wild as Mom was on the stage and screen. And since Marriage and Motherhood, I'm more inclined towards bikini cheesecake and what we call 'Tease'--."

"Tease?" I had to ask.

"Yes." She smiles. "It's a photo shoot where it's oblivious the model in the picture is nude, but the goodies are always hidden by the placement of the arms and legs, or by lighting induced shadows, even cloth. It meant to 'tease' the viewer into a pleasurable reaction, much like a Pin-Up poster. I've been doing them for five years, and won't do anything harder.

"Mom knows and understands. She hasn't even made an effort to push me back into her level, largely because she herself has been considering scaling back on performing so to pay more attention to running the Agency and what-all. Of course, Marcy and Staff members keep her very busy by themselves…"

While maybe not a vivacious as her Mother with regards to carnal pleasures, Karry has another 'outlet' for her passions…

_Automobiles_.

Not as in simply collecting or driving them, but in donning coveralls to thoroughly go through the machine, the oil, and the muck to keep them in perfectly operational condition. _ Aficionado_ is the best term to describe such a person willing to go _that_ far. And this easily shows in the very vivid detail she takes in explaining facts about the collection she maintains in the Garage.

It's like walking into an automobile museum.

In one corner of this great subterranean room, are several 'Horseless Carriages' from over one-hundred years ago; flimsy metal frames on reconditioned buckboards, or just metal frames period, that moved on either wooden spoke tires or wired bicycle tires, steered by a tiller, while powered by simple combustion engines whose best speed was less than a horse at full gallop. From there, both the quality of manufacture and power-output improves with the overall design; all metal bodies of the Nineteen-twenties and Thirties with their running boards and wide fenders, each polished to perfection. Postwar era cars and the 'Dream Machines' I remember from my youth, though not 'Rodded out' for speed as many youthful drivers did back then. And finally to the retro designs that dominate many of today's vehicles.

But there were a few oddities; a couple of Steam-powered cars from the early Twentieth Century, several Military vehicles ranging from the First World War all the way to Vietnam, including an authentic Mercedes-Benz German Army Staff Car from the Second World War complete with Nazi swastika flags and other authentic markings, various race cars from decades of track racing in both America and Europe, what would be known as 'Kit Cars'. Mixed amongst this are several Edrailian Land-cars and Air-cars, as Karry calls them while also informing me than many can still be found and in use at the many planetary colonies, Island-City constructs and the vast GeoFront1 known as the 'City', the underground community just north of the Aerospace facility where many of the facility's workers live with their families along side those with ties to AA or to the GeoFront's operations.

These vehicles aren't all the slick 'super machines' seen as concept cars at Auto Shows, quite a few of them in fact are either a mixture of automotive designs of the early Twentieth Century with a healthy dose of 'Art Deco' touches, or could be easily found in the ancient cities of Eastern Europe. Then there were those who were modeled after race car designs, found at either LeMans or the Indy 500—but able to take two passengers with a small amount of luggage. Though several of these Edrailian designs, especially the Air-cars, could be easily considered futuristic fantasy, with designs ranging from boxy to sleek.

But along the east wall were seven cars, in various states of building, all of the same make and model of a vehicle that even I found astonishing.

"Tucker Torpedo's?"

Karry smiles broadly, "One of Mammeel's older brothers went in on one when the Company was just starting up." She explains. "If the Government hadn't shut the Company down his would have been Number Fifty-eight. He wasn't about to take his money back, oh no. He liked was he saw, and _'damn it, he wanted his Tucker'_.

"So one night before the Creditors could clear out the entire plant, he and a couple of his cronies raided the place taking everything they could lay their hands on. He got his Tucker, and enjoyed it right up till' the day he died. What you see here is all the other stuff they made off with. Enough for two complete cars, with several left-over parts as spares."

She also explained that what was here was only relevant to this part of the family; all the other branches had their own collections. When not working, or taking care of her son, she could be usually found here tending to the collection.

It's her way of coupling with loss.

"Some may take a dim view of it." She quietly explains. "But it helps me deal with the pain."

It's almost identical to how her sister deals with her trauma.

Karry doesn't speak much about what happened when Juan's twin sister, Juanita, was killed along with her Father two years ago. And I respectfully try not to bring up the matter, since it still clearly affects her. But there up on the mantle of the main house are there pictures; baby pictures of them both separate and together, and those of Karry with her husband—a strikingly handsome Latino gentleman.

"I'm sorry about Juan." She gently says to me. "I really need to get him to stop being so cold around people."

"It's alright." I reply with a smile, simply to put her at ease. "He did voice earnest concerns."

"You'll find a lot of people here sharing the same attitude, and worse." She frankly explains, "Especially as Emergence Day approaches. Some have been talking about fighting back against the irresponsible who'd hope we'd solve their problems for them, just because of who we are, and others are considering leaving before becoming 'subjected' to Humanity's whims…

I strongly doubt the Edrailians will become 'subjected' in any sense. But I am certain there will be those who'd try, given the oblivious shift in power that will be occurring as a result of Emergence Day, by those displaced from power by the event who would be seeking a way of regaining it. Then, there will be those with the preconceived notion that the Edrailians can 'fix' every ailment and woe presently attacking Humanity because they're alien and have the technology to do. In all actual sense of the word, this is a far-fetched notion—but one that will cause them plenty of grief…

Which I'm strongly considering to be the motivation behind all this ill-feeling that surfacing amongst the Edrailians.

"What I've seen is practically no different than Humanity." I gently point out. "With heavier emphasis on personal responsibility, and family ties."

"In all, that maybe true." Karry frowns. "But we're no dumping ground for Humanity's troubles, or the cure-all to make things 'all better'. Or become exploited for their good, at the expense of ours."

Then she pauses, looking at me apologetically. "I'm sorry, but that is what's being said in the City—and worse."

"I can imagine." I knowingly respond with a nod, "Your Father explained it all in great detail."

She quietly nods. Then pauses to ask, "Was that when he smashed the table?"

I smiled, but didn't go into any great detail about it.

_But I am worried just the same…_

_Perceptions, even innocent ones, have the potential to cause disasters of all sizes. In this case, the chances of Civil Unrest occurring, on both sides, are fantastic. It's easy enough to tell what Humanity's reactions will be, since such has often been the fodder for numerous Science-Fiction stories—both good and bad. The Edrailians are very much aware of this, and take a clearly resentful attitude towards it. _

_They will not be scapegoated into providing solutions any more than being forced into Humanity's servitude, as they have seen happen to weaker nations and people by stronger rivals in the Fifteen hundred years of their existence here…_

_It all very possible, I will not delude myself otherwise._

_I just pray that the cooler, more logical heads prevail come Emergence Day._

1 The term _GeoFront_ is used to describe a massive excavated underground living complex with wide open areas, but is largely contained with in the domain of Science-Fiction. Isaac Asimov explored a concept similar to this in the novel, _The Caves of Steel._ But more notable examples of this would be NERV Base from _Neon Genesis Evangelion, _and Zion from _The Matrix Reloaded _and _The Matrix Revolutions._—Author.

6


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

TOM.

_It's easy to say TOM is 'Just a Robot'._

_He stands twelve feet tall with a metallic body that's slightly humanoid in appearance (but bulker), and clearly artificially Intelligent. And can be found wearing a very large wide-brimmed brown hat upon his cubbish head, and a very long multi-colored scarf usually draped around his thick neck three or four times—whose ends still dangle around his large feet. _

_Even with a mind of his own, TOM clearly stands above all that with likes and dislikes, and going beyond programmed standards when it comes to protecting the entire Ayers Family. He's known to willing help others in dire straights without asking permission to do so. Two excellent examples of this occurred during _

_Operation: Midsummer Night. The first involved the conscientious act of rescuing Duke's assembled squad from certain death without orders, which placed the Edrailian mission on Cobra Island in immediate danger of exposure to the enemy—which by sheer irony was how they were revealed to the G.I. Joe Team. The second incident occurred personally to me when I personally encountered him, fully armed and armored, on a landing platform at the Cobra Temple, where he properly apologized for startling me with a proper tip of his large floppy hat._

_I fully admit to being surprised at that moment, and who wouldn't. Though wearing the uniform of a Cobra Viper would have easily brought me much misery through mistaken identity, the character and restraint he exhibited, that alone in my opinion sets him beyond anything possibly considered by Isaac Asimov and others in the field of Robotics and Artificial Intelligence…_

_"Oh, he was strict." Karry Ayers easily recalls as we walk through the Garage. "Mom and Dad gave him a good deal of latitude when it came to punishing the whole lot of us when we did something bad. But he never crossed the line, as some would fear-- as some systems have done. He made sure we learned from it, to know the difference between Right and Wrong—as opposed to just beating the bad notions out of us. I dare say he did a very good job of it"_

_In deed…_

His room has no door…

But then, he has no need for privacy.

When Karry knocks on the door frame, the large blocky red figure with a head shaped like a partially deflated beach ball turns around in his large viewing chair from the wall-sized television monitor playing something I don't off-hand recognize. It snaps off as he snaps to attention, standing next to his properly proportioned chair.

"Mistress Karry…_General Colton!_" He booms in that smooth British accent of his. "Master and Mistress informed me you'd be around for a chat. Would you like to sit? Some tea, perhaps?"

If TOM had a face, I am certain there'd be a broad, friendly smile on it as he extends human-sized hand extensions from his arms towards me to shake. The room is rather plain, there are no pictures on the tan walls or any other adornments, and largely centered around the giant T.V. at the far end. But there is furniture; high—backed and over-stuffed ottomans, with matching footrests, and couches that are perfectly human sized as well as the same perfectly sized for him. Including properly scaled hat rack, where his trademark floppy brown hat rests at the very top with his super long multi-colored scarf draped across the pegs underneath.

I accept the offer of a seat, choosing the Ottoman nearest to his giant one with Karry one the far side, but politely decline the offer of tea as she accepts. And after the formalities and explanations, he begins to talk about himself…

"Initially, my existence began as a Norvel AE7-PASS system specifically designed for Sentry/ Infiltration usage. Though, as you have seen, I have been modified to handle heavier weaponry.

"That particular Powered Armored Suit-System design was a decent performer in its designed role, but not altogether popular like the Careasell-NF9 or the Horwel IK7—but, if you were on a budget and had the desire to tinker, the Norvel was perfect. It's designers and manufactures' were very understanding in that matter, especially concerning battlefield modifications and repairs—unlike other manufacturer's you see."

"We occasionally run into similar problems with equipment." I smile knowingly back.

"It's typical." TOM continues with a simple gesture. "And typically, such systems become obsolete to main line usage. So, they're normally stepped down for civilian use. Ending up either in Construction or Hazardous Material handling. Nothing gets scrapped, if it can't be helped.

"The latter is how my allotment arrived into Ayers Aerospace's hands. There were a few too many to use right off, so most of them were stored either complete or disassembled for spare parts. And it's at this point, Master comes into play."

TOM steeples his fingers together and begins his tale. "It was a combination of School science project with a dash of peer pressure. As a child, you see, Master wasn't too physically active due to his serious asthmatic condition. And being around so many physically active children wore terribly upon his self esteem, even though he was good friends with Prince Wildman at the time. He shifted his focus away from trying to be like the other children, though the Sun and a little exertion would have done him some good, and dove head-long into the more obtainable worlds of Science and Engineering.

"In my case, Master had an ideal concerning the refurbishing of outdated PASS' into a sort of 'Autonomic Guardian' for children physically disabled as he himself was. The ideal does have merit, but the way that Master wanted to do it was highly unusual—since it would involve making the PASS into an Artificially Intelligent guardian with a higher understanding of both their own existence and all others around them, so to properly react and remember at anytime afterward."

Then TOM leans forward, and in a hushed voice reveals; "I think Master was more influenced by all those old Japanese cartoons. You know the ones with a boy and his robot fighting all manner of criminals and such, than by the spark of creativity."

"TOM!" Karry loudly chides over her tea.

"Well the ideal had to have come from somewhere, right?" TOM humoristicly proclaims in his defense. "Everything that makes us act and react, think and do, are influenced by some sort of outside stimulus or another. We don't come pre-loaded with programs. And even then, we still need to be told what to do, until we learn how to do it ourselves."

I smile and nod as all this goes on, remembering those very television shows which we used to pass the time during Vietnam when not in the field; unusually drawn characters with a less than excellent soundtrack. And I can't help but agree with TOM's logic on that fact, especially as he relates to us all those early adventures with Wildman, the Hawkern Sisters, and Ayers.

But back then, he was simply known as 'Robot'. He didn't have the name or identity he has now.

Which came about in a very interesting way…

"One aspect of my '_existence_' was _to learn_." He explains. "Of course, one can easily state that Television is a very poor teacher with its endless waves of tripe and blatant fact distortion. But here and there are small Islands of the greatness the medium can become, if so allowed to…

"One such island is an import from Britain, _Doctor Who._"

While I'll admit that television can be influential in ways good, and bad, there is that fine line between the casual viewer and a babbling fanatic.

TOM veers wildly between the extremes while as he explains the dynamics of how this show, originally created as a children's program in the early Sixties concerning the exploits of a wandering "Gallifreyan Time-Lord" and his various companions thwarting evil schemes during the show's initial Forty year run—and continuing once again after a brief period of cancelation came to be such a strong influence on him—leading to the discovery of his current identity. The explanation of which becomes quiet interesting to hear…

"I 'd been in existence for about five years, when Master was finally able to up-grade by Bio-Mark brain with expansion blocks and faster processors and some Military-grade hardware acquired from surplus.

"After all of that was working in unison, my expanded mind suddenly tingled with new found possibilities while still geared towards learning. Of course, the first questions involved were the general philosophical "_Who am I?"_ sort…

"You see, Children do not have this problem, because even as newborns they are addressed by name. Through that, have a rudimentary sense of identity before the end of their first Month.

"I, on the other hand, was always indentified as _'Robot'_—quite generic if you ask me. Neither Master, his Father, nor any of his friends could come up with a good ideal for a _'name'_—in spite numerous efforts. As for my character part, that was rarely touched.

"_I should learn from others_, Prince Wildman suggested as a solution to that part of the dilemma. It wasn't a bad suggestion, really, but trying to find a good example to go by beyond those I immediately knew wasn't easy."

This I fully understood. Children often look to their parents and friends as their immediate role-models. I know perfectly during my childhood, my family had a significant impact upon me as I grew into Manhood. Nowadays, it appears that a lot of behavior and attitudes are learned from media images that are not only fake but have no character what so ever. TOM definitely had his task worked out for him. And how he finally arrived at it was actually quite surprising…

Well, actually, not. Because he already alluded to it much earlier.

"The Audio/Video recorder broke down one particular bad day." TOM simply begins. "I know this'll sound very anti-climatic, but Master's Father was really keen on several television programs produced by BBC-TV that he'd seen during his Boarding School days in England. So, they wired me up as a temporary A/V Recorder for a while, and needless to say, I became quite fascinated with the _Doctor Who _program during that time. It was how the character of The Doctor was handled by the particular performer at that particular time—friendly, imaginative, not overly flamboyant, but always careful and correct in his actions, on occasion, but always _learning_. There were people with parts of these desirable characteristics, but never all of them in one.

"So slowly, I began working on them—mimicking the performer in every way by studying every recorded episode. Master did notice this and wondered, as did others, about what I was doing. But it soon became apparent to them that I was learning from my environment, and applying it back. Several thought it was fascinating that I was assuming the characteristics of another, acting as they would, completely above and beyond what would be considered protocol.

"To this day, there were those who wouldn't be satisfied with giving my programming a good scour. They literally want to rip apart my brain and drives for a much closer examination, to figure out how I _'became'_ what I am, as they claim. Master has constantly refused their requests to do so, which in spite considerable advancements in Artificial Intelligence systems on many levels surprisingly still come in."

His large head tilts downward to his still steeped fingers in his lap, and in a reflective voice reasons to me; "It's understandable why they want to examine my systems. The only way to really understand how anything works is to examine the complete sum of its parts in fine detail.

"But that would mean my end; the cessation of my existence…

"I may sacrifice myself to protect the family, however large it becomes, in the storm that is coming. But to be torn apart just for the sake of them receiving remunerations and momentousness over solving the mystery of '_what_' and '_how_' I am—I will say _no_. That is a sacrifice that benefits only the few, not all, in spite their claims."

_TOM would be one aspect of Edrailian technology that Scientists all over the World would love to get their hands on, just to answer the question concerning the artificial development of Intelligence in machines. _

_But I must wonder; if the benefits of such are unable overcome the detracting factors, what good would that information be if it causes Humanity to fear these creations even more? _

_Man is not God by any means. We cannot ever reach such a level of perfection because of all our flaws. Our creations will either be like us, in both the good and bad sense of the term, or simple mindless slaves that do our bidding and nothing more. _

_Yet, here is TOM—what do we make of him?_

_I must wonder; if we ever find that answer, will we solve our own problems as a race? _

7


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six.

Donnie and the City.

_ Donnie Thomas Ayers._

_Professor and Master of Advanced Cybernetic Theory and Engineering, Master of Aeronautical Design and Mechanics, Master of Advanced Mathematics, Master of Advanced Quantum Physics, and so on…_

_And very well known for not being 'easy' to work with, on a professional level due in art to what he considers to be the wide scale politicalizing and commercializing of science for political stature and monetary gain--mostly for the few and select, and whatever happens to be the latest environmental concern gripping the World's attention at the moment. His deliberate of the world academician society for this very reason has made him an outcast from this highly select group, preferring instead to side with those he considers to be 'actually trying to make a difference'._

"_It's sad." He lamented to me one time, "Real Scientists and Engineers cannot get the funding they need largely because the purse strings are controlled by those who haven't a clue to what they are being told. Or tell the politicians what they want to hear so they can bolster their own political standing with them."_

_But that's the Outside World. Around his fellows at the Ayers Aerospace Facility, he's very different; he's considerate, accessible, and willing to listen to what his fellow engineers, mechanics, and system maintenance personnel have to say. And these people aren't Johnny-come-lately bucks fresh from University with heads full of theory and very little practice, every one of them spent years in the' trenches' of their specific fields—honing their respective skills under the highly strict optional guidelines of 'Aerospace Vehicles' (those that can move easily through an atmosphere and vacuum), and Astrospace Vehicles' (those restricted to travel in a vacuum medium) repair and reconditioning. These rules, I may add, contain some of the strictest laws and punishments I've ever seen for violations of safety and improper work. _

_But then, these are Spacecraft. _

_It's not as easy as crashing in the ocean, where you do have the chance of being rescued—after a time. Space is infinite, and rescue depends upon how close one is to a planet or installation when they send out their ship's distress beacon—if they can._

_Serous failure can condemn travelers to centuries of drifting through the void before they are ever found, if ever. So it's no wonder why Ayers stresses over every ship his company refurbishes and repairs, because one careless slip can cost him everything he has. _

With TOM and Karry, I arrive from the Ayers' Household to Ayers' Aerospace by way a private Maglev Tram—traveling the five miles between the two points in roughly ten minutes.

The distance and the time it took to get to the Facility aren't truly significant, as according to Karry, the entire Facility consists of Fifteen hundred square miles of repair bays, fabrication shops, storage areas, crude oil storage and refinement (for the manufacturing of plastics), transport bays and hangers that extend eight miles into the Earth.

"There are offices and such, but they only comprise about five percent of the entire structure." Explains Karry. "Dad's not very big on boardrooms, or executives sitting around in large offices drinking and dictating. _Everything's _done on _The Floor_."

And is. I have read about Lockheed-Martian's highly exceptional engineering group known by their popular name, _Skunk Works--_famous for creating the most incredible aircraft designs all within time limits and free of bureaucratic interference because scientists and engineers worked together right on the floor, side by side, not in separate areas. The atmosphere here at Ayers' is very similar, though applied in the areas of vehicle repair, salvage and restoration. There is the occasional 'special project' occurring in the more high security areas of the facility, but the initial drive of Ayers Aerospace lays in the aforementioned three areas.

But when we came upon him, the situation was anything but innovative…

It was worrisome.

"Ok kids, gather around." He announced to Wild Bill, Roadblock, Scarlett, Gung-ho, and Lifeline as he squatted down before them. "Time for your _improvised_ Biology lesson."

They were on the walkway that runs along side several of the cavernous repair bays. Ayers, in his trademark tan clothes and square-toed boots, with his ever present wide-brimmed fedora and battered leather jacket, while a tall, lean Edrailian, perfectly bald and wearing a white billowy shirt with lacey ruffles on its cuffs, a dark velvet vest with matching pants-and looking sourly down upon the spot just where Ayer's is kneeling. This person, Karry tells me, is 'Wonks', or Wonker Collen—the ever

fastidious and effeminate right-hand man of Ayers' Aerospace, who is a pinch would happily don a pair of coveralls and dive gleefully into the filthiest of engines without hesitation.

"Before us," Ayers begins like an instructor, "courtesy of Scarlett's expert knife throw, is the female of the insect species called _Annaphlours—_in polite conversation that is. But as you become more acquainted with this pest, you'll discover all sorts of colorful names for it. Maybe even create a few of your own after a while."

Karry cringes at the name, and it's her gasp that alerts them to our presence. She blushes from the embarrassment, but the Joes remain at ease. Some even step out of the way to let us see what's going on…

It looks like a Beetle, but the size of Rat Terrier. With eight legs, large mandibles and a face that's covered with a thick, fine hair. Ayers is crouched down beside it, cutting away at the creatures' abdomen with a small pocket knife. And in doing so, peels back the carapace with evident repugnance exposing numerous gray tubular organs and a few milk-white ones. I can also see where Scarlett's knife toss had killed it.

"What is it?" I found myself asking.

"An Intergalactic Cockroach." Wild Bill freely comments.

"They're a territorial scavenger." Wonks adds, sounding like a cultured New Englander. "Attracted to Rock Oil…"

"Rock Oil?" Gung-ho wonders.

"Petroleum." Wild Bill answers with a smile. "Good o' Texas Tea."

"Ten points for the Cowboy." Ayers comments while still working on the creature. "Now, for an extra twenty, who amongst you can tell me what is made from Petroleum?"

"Gasoline." Gung-ho obliviously answers.

"Oils, paints, inks, and various cosmetics. Scarlett follows.

"Plastics and various rubber products." Roadblock adds.

"Along with a wide variety of polymers," Lifeline concludes, "especially those used in both the medical and scientific fields."

"Excellent." Ayer says without looking up from the organs' he's probing with his pocket knife. "So all of you now have a very good ideal of what these monsters will do if they manage to escape from here and breed in mass. Which is why there are very strict measures, and punishments, for such infestations if they are not immediately dealt with in place?"

He was examining particular organs while explaining this. The four milky-white tubular organs shaped like elongated tuning forks whose ends were connected to a ball-like organ at the extreme rear of the creature's abdominal section. Some of these particular organs were wide and fat, while others were flaccid and deflated.

Judging from the expressions on Ayers' and Wonks' faces, this wasn't good. And soon it was explained why.

"These," Ayers begin by pointing at those very organs, "are the creatures' Ovaries. Each is capable of producing over two thousand eggs, pea-sized for male marble-sized for female. Fortunately, there will only be one or two females born in each clutch and the males of this species are small, grasshopper-like in appearance, and so docile you can pick them up blind-folded. That is until they sense a female rutting, then you'll be lucky to have all your fingers afterward.

"The females are always aggressive, and can hit anything with a toxic nerve poison that kills in seconds. Eliminate them, and you can eliminate the bulk of the infestation—_after_ finding where they've laid their eggs."

So from educating us in the _how's, what's _and_ why's _of Spacecraft and Space Travel, it now becomes an education in dealing with the various pests that can find their way onboard a Spaceship. Considering the fact through, it becomes a matter of safety for both industry and the environment; no more different than the numerous Earthbound insects and animals who have not only managed the same feat of hitchhiking on both boats and aircraft, but have managed to cause sever devastation to many agricultural crops and native livestock upon settling in that land. These creatures we're hunting have the same ability to cause a major catastrophe on Earth, given our overwhelming dependency upon Petroleum and products made from petroleum. Even though Ayers is hopeful that the infestation hasn't spread too far from this bay in particular, still he is taking no chances.

"Simply put, they're a bane." Ayers explains to us all. "Any shipyard that gets infected by them is subject to immediate lockdown and permanent closure if the matter isn't taken care of."

Once the alert is sent out and the Bays are closed off, the pesticide packs and other equipment are distributed around (especially to the Spider-like Autorobes that assist us); we are broken up into teams and sent out on the hunt. I'm placed with Ayers and two Autorobes, checking over a service access over the Bay itself. As we made our way there, Ayers spoke about his life.

"You can say that I'm lucky, considering all that I've gone through; born with sever asthma, bad eyesight, and becoming a cyborg after that acid-bomb attack. And then, there were all of the scrapes Kim and I got into as kids—sometimes with the Hawkern sisters. Boy did Dad have a fit with that, even if TOM was around to keep me from harm.

"But then," he adds with a shrug, "being both his only surviving child, and since he never remarried after Mom's death, on top of being as sickly as I was, it's understandable that he'd be concerned for my safety."

I remember the picture; the sickly child with thick lensed glasses holding his respirator tightly…

It would be easy for me to feel the same way if he were my child.

"Some of those asthma attacks left me bedridden for weeks; while others nearly killed me as they did my brother." Ayers continues, "That inhalant medicine I had to use tasted like crap, but use it I did. I wanted to survive, to live.

"The basic drives, it can't be any simpler. My Grandfather's no different, though he claims that it's due to his Hebrew disposition. He doesn't back down from anything. It was the way he is, even way back when he worked for the Meyer Lansky mob in New York during Prohibition…"

While the names Ayers mentions don't readily come to mind, the words _Mob _and _Prohibition _do.

Over Eighty years ago, the act against the manufacture and consumption of Liquor was made into law in America with the hope that decency would once again prevail throughout the land. Instead, it created monopolies for the criminals it targeted, in the form of making their own hooch from stills, and bloody battles between Mobsters over profits and territory.

Practically no different than illegal drugs nowadays…

"Grandfather killed two crooked cops trying to shake him down in a deal, and a G-Man they'd brought along as a fall-back should their original plan fail." Ayers openly explained. "A lot of this happened from week to week, but one of the Cops in question was related to a Rabbi close to Granddad's 'Boss'. New York's Jewish community has been very tight back then, and it still is today. Word got around quick, leaving him no other choice but to leave town and fast if he wanted to continue living.

"He got as far as the Montana wilderness before his Model A died in the middle of a blizzard high up in the mountains. Of course, he was thoughtful to pick things up along the way; heavy blankets, cigarettes, matches, water, food—it didn't matter if it was kosher or not. At that point, he really didn't care. Though he was surprised as anyone could be when he stumbled upon Mammeele. Which was absolutely hilarious, because she was having the same marriage trouble that Lisa was having about the time I married her.

"Mammeele wanted no part of _that_ arranged marriage." He begins. "So, she took off to a special place of her own. Only several local bootleggers had found the place and were using it to make their Hooch. They didn't appreciate her arrival, and were about to kill her when Granddad came across them and killed off them off …

"You could say he was quite surprised afterward." Ayers adds off handedly. "Floored him, actually."

And, the Gangster on the run eventually fell in love and married the damsel he saved. While it does sound far fetched, I have no doubt that it happened. A good example of that is right in front of me.

"We went back to New York City five years ago…" His words start fading out as he notices something up ahead at the ground before us in the corridor. "He'd recently concluded the life extension treatment, so he and Mammeele could remain together for a few more centuries. Any human, born in the colonies or here, usually goes through it weather or not they marry an Edrailian-pure or Edrailian-mix by choice. On a whim wanted to see for himself how much the 'old neighborhood' had changes. He's a little balder and grayer than he was back then, but still recognizable. Caused quite a few heart attacks amongst those who still recalled him…Can you shine that light over in that upper corner there?"

While what Ayers had been telling me danced around in my head, creating numerous questions involving _how, what, _and _why_, I did as he me instructed me to. And there along the wall where it met the floor, several tiny diamonds sparkled in the light.

"Egg Clutch." Ayers frowned.

_Being in the depths of the Ayers Facility is a sight to behold. _

_Imagine caverns ranging from one, two, three, and up to five miles in length by two and a half miles high and Three miles wide (which, according to Ayers, is the maximum dimensions of any Aerospace craft. Anything beyond that is sure to suffer from issues of stability within a gravitational environment.), stacked four deep one top of the other for at least eight miles into the Earth—incidentally, serviced by elevators that both lift and lower these gigantic craft to and from these massive work bays._

_And within each bay, an entire army of workers; Humans, Mixes, and Autorobes, pouring over each craft like ants assaulting the carcass of a dead animal. But in this instance, they are not only stripping and savaging but replacing and repairing as well…_

"A facility such as this utilizes as much of the surrounding planetary mass for structure as possible." Ayers explains as we skirt around an elevator chasm, drawing my attention to it. "Being burrowing creatures, we've pretty much have the physics of building such megastructures down pat. The Ship-Lifts, or elevators as you would call them, are the only free standing things in the whole complex. They move average ships in their shafts at a maximum speed of three miles per hour, less for the larger ships so their engines won't wear out so fast from the stress."

As extraordinary as this place is, it still requires a tremendous amount of power to properly function. The means used to power this massive complex is both obvious as it is fascinating.

"It's from multiple sources." He explains. "Geothermal, Fusion-Mass, and Solar Rad-Conversion are the main sources, with Chemical, Nuclear, Internal Combustion, Wind, and Wind-up as our secondary and emergency power sources."

Some of these I knew of, since both Solar and Geothermal are being constantly revered for their non-polluting natures. Nuclear, of course, is the cause of much worried hand-wringing and concern—especially over it's waste by-products.

But Chemical and _Wind-up? _This is all going to get some time to get used to.

"Chemical-Reactive is along the lines of a Thermodynamic Generator1, but without the radiation hazard associated with these kinds of long-duration generators. They use the heat created by the chemical reaction in the production of power, and work perfectly in places where either internal combustion or nuclear generation can cause problems.

"But for the ultimate in completely trouble free power generation, Wind-up is the best. It's nothing but this big wind-up spring that drives a portable electromagnetic generator, just like in sixth grade science class."

So simplistic. It was stunning to have even believed that no human inventor had ever thought of such things.

"But they had." Ayers explained. "They just weren't taken seriously."

And he explained the rest. "Fusion-Mass is the total conversion of Matter into Energy, at least in principal. The system operates along the lines of a Fusion Reactor, by maintaining plasma within a powerful Magnetic field, where matter is introduced in small quantities at a time so to maintain the continual reaction that produces power. We utilize it for most of the facilities functions involving heavy equipment. It's also a great way of disposing of garbage, since anything can be used as reactive in it.

"It's one drawback is the build-up of clear carbons with in the reaction area. Try as we may, Matter can never be fully destroyed with in the reaction chamber. Instead, we've used it to make windows and windscreens, cups, plates, and other things that require a perfectly translucent material."

It takes me only a moment to realize what he is talking about.

"Diamonds?" I blurt in surprise.

"Not exactly the stuff people kill over, it's a lower grade." Ayers nods. "But it's hard, nearly unbreakable, and perfect for windows and windscreens due to its stress handling ability.

"Now," he goes on, "Solar-Rad Conversion isn't like the 'Solar' you have an understanding of. Yes, it can convert sunlight to energy, but it'll also convert the neglected radiant heat, the very energy that drives the weather that occurs all over the World, to energy as well. We more powerful version of that here on ships that have suffered minor Rad- contamination, to accelerate the decay of such harmful radiance at a thousand-fold rate through powerful electromagnetic degassing. They're the cylinders that resemble large cooling ducts, running from floor to ceiling in all the repair bays. We also have special bays that are completely sealed with even more powerful versions to take on serious ship-wide Rad-contamination, though we've never been in any situation that required their use. And we also have likewise systems that can be deployed from ships and other vehicles, but take my advice…"

"Yes?"

"Don't think you can rid your body of any Rad-contamination easily with such devices." Ayers tells me directly. "People have tried it as a quicker means than the established therapy already available; they said it felt like they were being ripped apart inside."

_Several hours later, we're given the all-clear signal; the infestation's been contained and dealt with. So, for the most part, life returns to normal._

_I remain with Ayers, who then takes me on a tour of the massive subterranean structure known as 'The City' a Two-hundred mile diameter Geofront tours, which lies north of the AA Facility and one mile below the surface. Five miles of winding Maglev tunnels that show views of various repair bays, through a long dark tunnel that sloped downward at an easy incline with yellowish lights on the side as markers. _

_And finally, enter into the structure itself._

_I'm suddenly reminded of Central Italy's Tuscany region, with it's forest covered hills and mountainous valleys where quaint villages of stucco and stone are nestled within, surrounded by hardy farms and vineyards—for such vistas greet me upon entering the structure, it's all so identical and life-like with clear blue skies. I start to wonder if we're on the surface, transported by some strange means. But Ayers assures me that we are underground._

"_It takes two tons of oxygen to make the sky 'blue'." He explains. "You'll see the same effect on large-scale space habitats. Without the worry of hull breeches or X-ray bombardment"_

_We even past herds of free-running goats and cattle being herded in numerous pastures on our way to the first stop, a sprawling terraced city that stretches across the ten mile width of the interior construct._

"_Simply put, Edrailians have always been burrowing creatures." Ayers explains "Even when we mingled with Humanity, most decedents preferred to reside in what creations that could be carved underground as opposed to living aboveground. I kinda live both worlds, as you could see from my house. What we are in is what would be considered a Geofront, a large, excavated subterranean space used for urban expansion as a proposed means of dealing with overpopulation in a limited space. The ideal has it's roots in Science-Fiction, but there are excellent examples of this located in our world; the 'Undercity' beneath Ancient Rome that was carved out by Christians seeking refuge from persecution , and a Seattle's Pioneer Square; a mini-city of twenty city blocks beneath the very heart of Seattle . But nothing ever planned out to the existent as this is."_

_In deed, there's no sterile or artificial 'feel' to this place at all; the sky's a perfectly natural blue with thin clouds and fleeting breezes, all under the reactions of a special Fusion generators burning both hydrogen and helium (as the real Sun naturally does) timed to move like their natural counterparts on a ceiling track speak high three miles overhead appearing very real and producing a pleasant springtime warmth upon the 'floor' of the GeoFront-- providing its inhabitants with a form of natural equilibrium to their lives, as the system is geared to match time-wise the movements of their natural counterparts perfectly. _

_The town we arrived at was a perfect stone-built replica of what would be found when traveling through the Tuscany region, right down to the Roman-era stone built structures and sloping cobblestone streets—where on many of the wider streets an unusual assortment of automobiles were parked under the branches of mature trees. _

_But soon after departing from the tram, I come in contact with evidence 'ill feeling' so mentioned to me. It comes from the various posters tacked here and there on trees, sides of buildings, and upon public kiosks. Some are very clear, while others depict crudely drawn humans characters with bloated bodies and tiny arms and legs in the guise of bankers, politicians and generals—with looks of deranged rapture on their overly pudgy faces. I cannot decipher the writing on these posters, which I assume to be native Edrailian—due to Ayers reaction to it._

_Overcome with intense anger, he moves towards them with the clear intent of ripping them apart. Only at the last moment did he manage to restrain himself from committing the act. The angry frown on his face that slowly fades away is mirrored on the expressions of oblivious distaste I receive from some of the residence, usually in passing but from others huddled around cars, motorbikes, or seated in the outdoor cafes we pass along the way. These are the people Karry Ayers warned me about. I try not to let their presence bother me. It's assured that they wouldn't try anything against me as long as Ayers is near-by,_

_Not all treat me like the Plague, thankfully. Most treat me respectfully; in fact many are very pleasant when they discover who I am… _

…

In a small Coffee House that overlooks a glittering blue Marina with numerous small sailing boats, we continue with our discussions.

First and foremost, I ask about the amount power it takes for a ship to reach the farthest reaches of space and come back within mere days and weeks—not years or centuries (if ever). It's a combination of personal curiosity, as well as a means for Ayers to stop focusing on the insult he suffered from the posters.

"Well, for starters," He slowly begins. "It's a matter of what specific '_job_' the craft was designed for. All our stuff's Fission-Mass Reactored, with the size and number of Reactors designed in relative in proportion to the overall mass of the ship. These units can range from that size, to the size of a small naval cruiser for some of the larger Aerospace craft. Those are situated in an in-line formation along the ships center-line, as a means of stability when traveling in atmospheric environments.

"For example, the Angelstar's Reactor is about the size of a Fifty Gallon trash can, with two smaller reactors that are the size of an average car tire, which would be found in various fighter and excursionary craft like Jumper. But the Ship's owner may not decide to modify their craft as they see fit. For example, again, the Angelstar was initially created for interplanetary shipment hauling. It had no Intergalactic traveling capability—until I rebuilt it with the ability.

"However, this limits the overall size of the craft itself, especially when it concerns stress to the whole body-frame when maneuvering in an Atmospheric environment, which Astrospace vehicles do not have a problem with. But they do worry about the amount of stress caused by their propulsion systems and gravitational body influence."

"Gravitational body?" I had to wonder, though I had a very good ideal of what he was talking about.

"Planets, worlds. Large moons, stars—anything that can cause gravitational influence to occur." He answers. "Enough of this _push-pull_ can age a ship's frame considerably over the operational lifetime."

The ships being worked on at the Facility are all of the Aerospace variety; spaceships that can easily operate in both space and in air. (Astrospace craft are Space-only, and can never operate in any atmospheric environment) And considering how large some of them are, just getting them here can be an effort unto itself.

"Usually we make the landings at night, keeping close watch on the air traffic flying around." Ayers begins. "There are times when we deploy Persuaders to prevent the ships from being seen, and block all radar from spotting them. But the main rule is; the ships that come here need to under their own power and control. We don't need to wheel out the big Tugs for a crippled craft. In fact, we don't want to due to the high possibility of an incident occurring with said craft. Big ships make big noise when hitting the ground and Area 51 can only be blamed for so many things…

"The really distressed ships get sent to the Mars Facility, which is far larger and a lot less hidden than here. And if they make an accidental landing, there's a lot more time to clean up the mess."

That I can fully see, and agree with. Not only can a major accident of such a magnitude be extremely hard to hide, it can create a whole mess of problems that can be hard to cover-up. And from the way Ayers spoke while explaining those facts, if such an incident occurred, either under his personal direction or the direction of an employee, he would be in serious trouble.

"The Reactors can take a beating, even if you drop them from ten miles up, and are designed to stop function in the event of a breech to their containment field. But, there are other worried to deal with—such as ruptured fuel lines, controlling systems being damaged so that uncontrolled Fission occurs, or that the T.I.M overloads...and good-bye to a nice chunk of the Earth."

That concerns me.

"What is a T.I.M.?" I ask. All I know is that it's the means used by Edrailian ships to undertake space voyages with in the lifetimes of their crews, but the concept wasn't too well explained to me.

"_Time Indifference Module_," Ayers answers, "the current and only readily available means of flipping an Edrailian ship across the vast distances of the Galaxy without its passengers falling victim to the effects of Time Dilation and Casualty Effect."

One of the most unusual features involving space travel at high speeds is Time Dilation, which is easily explainable this way; there are twins (it doesn't matter if they're male or female), one joins a rocket traveling to the nearest star system to us (Alpha Centauri) at light speed. The journey for this twin is only four years round trip, maybe longer because they're sure to do some exploring while there, but upon returning he finds his sibling has aged some Fifty years or more. This is due to the fact that as the ship gains light speed, time for those on board will constantly move at slower and slower rates relative to any planet based observer. Some can even say time stops completely for those traveling at such speeds, but Ayers shake his head when I mention that.

"Time's relative." He explains. "The main problem is trying to maintain that relativity on the Ship, so there's no time discrepancy suffered by those on board.

"The major problem with a far-flung galactic civilization involves maintaining lines of transport that do not leave people waiting years or centuries between transport ships." Ayers explains. "Faster than Light and Warp Drives are nice, but limited to the Fact of Distance; the farther out you need to go, the more time and energy you need to do it and the more probably you'll be caught in Time Dilation. That adds to the high probability that you'll never see your friends and family again upon return or upon return find then as elderly inhabitants of a Nursing Home who barely remember you. The T.I.M. was able to eliminate _that_ particular hardship, thus enabling the rapid expansion into space and the near instantaneous communication with all parts of the Civilization. The best way to describe it in understandable terms would be in making the jump from Wind-powered sailing ships to Nuclear-powered ships, the increase in speed is a thousand-fold improvement.

"There are other ways of achieving the same result, but the T.I.M. is the most readily available and affordable technology at hand. Nor is it susceptible to the stresses to the stress' generated by the Ship's engines. But it does have its worries, especially where its balancing fields are concerned. Those prevent the thing from devouring itself, the ship and any mass that happens to be around it."

And Ayers tells me why...

"It's a Black Hole in a Can." He simply says. "A collapsed, artificial singularity, singularity kept in a controlled manner, like a Tannhauser Gate. When operating, it defeats both Time Dilation and Causality in the same manner a Krasnikov Tube would for the Alcubierre Warp Drive—but without the probability of the Tube being collapsed by Vacuum energy or the destruction of the systems needed to maintain the Warp Drive. It, through Gravitronic Physics, maintains the ship's relativity to this universe. So, the worry over being effected by Dilation at high speed is effectively eliminated."

Interesting… But still worrisome, never the less.

Under the Guidelines that Ayers explains to me, the T.I.M. System must be rendered inactive upon reaching any planetary destination. They too are fully aware of the implications of such power being released, either through accident or malice, and have strict policies over their operation at all times. But the attitude towards such is very similar to soldiers, even members of the Joe Team; they are very much aware of the probable fatal reality occurring during the course of their duty, but do not allow the possibility to drive them into absolute paranoia.

There are a goodly number of other things we discuss; the extensive underground community that serves as home for the workers here, the afford mentioned 'Treatment' designed to extend the lives of humans who decided to live and raise families amongst the Edrailian-Mixes, even the concept of a 'Higher Supreme Being' amongst Edrailians (which they don't have, and observing our history has put them off of such a concept).

But, as the day draws late, Ayers, in a very direct manner, confronts me with a question…

"I take it you allow very few things to really bother you."

At the time, I didn't see what Ayers was getting at. The question was quite ambiguous, lacking form, function, and even subject. But instead of pointing those facts out to him, I simply smiled, "I'm an experienced solider. I cannot allow most things to bother me."

"True" Ayers nodded in understanding. "The horrors you've seen…"

Then he looked directly at me. "I asked because as we walked through the Facility and this town, I noticed some the sharp looks being directed at you—and then some."

He then calls my attention to the far corner of the room just over my right shoulder. "The people over there occasionally shoot a dirty look at you." He explains.

At least they're not shooting bullets, but I do get the point.

"And I thought the Joes were largely popular." I quietly remark.

"You are." Ayers replies. "But some see you as a weapon wielded by Special Interests seeking to dominate."

I recall what Ayers said, and did in the meeting held right after MIDSUMMER NIGHT. The intent was very plain; _"We will not be a solution to your problems. If you try to force us, you will not like what occurs as a result!" _It was right about then he shattered the table by driving his fist against it. Now he sits relatively composed before me, but clearly concerned about what the future holds. His position is understandable; especially after all they've seen and recorded of the past fifteen hundred years. This puts me in a disadvantage.

"Professor Ayers, there is no doubt that which is feared by the Edrailians will be attempted in some shape form or fashion. But preventing it from succeeding is dependant upon many things, most specifically in how people perceive you to be."

Ayers doesn't reply. He sits there listening. In fact, the whole Café, to me anyway, becomes a little quieter.

"Your understanding of Humanity on many things, first and foremost upon History. But you have also realized that Humanity contains individuals who are not all alike in thought, action and motivation. Otherwise as I see it, the Edrailians would have either conquered Humanity or fled the Earth for the sake of their own survival."

As I draw my next breath to continue, I gage both Ayers and the Café's reaction to what I've said so far. Ayers looks readily agreeable, and the sounds of the Café are minimal. Nothing disruptive…Yet.

"Edrailian Society would be considered by many to be idealistic, based solely upon its technological achievements. But its Feudal nature will definitely put several off, motivating them to try changing it—"

"And good luck to that." Ayers interrupts. "It wouldn't be surprising, given the number of overly idealistic 'do-gooders' in both your society and government. There have been attempts to change our character by ourselves in the past. Many occurring long before the Leaving, and many long after Arrival, to change that aspect of our character. None succeeded."

"Oh?" I wondered.

"The reasons were numerous." He responds. "Personal, logistical, design flaws. But the factor was the dominance over the settlement by one or more power blocks that threatened to spill over into outright warfare—or did, causing the settlement's destruction. You see, it's a given that for any community to survive and thrive there is a reliance upon those groups with key skill-sets; Hunters, Healers, Bankers, Merchants, Crafters—just to name a few. When the community is small, there is cooperation between these groups and community leaders. Since the goals of the community at that point is to strive and thrive, with, hopefully, viable and growing population. But as that community strives and thrives, power blocks begin forming political alliances with in the very structure of those possessing the skill-sets.

"Government and law already have their power blocks formed out of necessity right from the start, then later on elements of the community start forming their own eventually become small self-contained governments. Nothing too bad, but it does set the stage for elitism to occur at some point in the future. At that point, it depends on the strength of the community's government and how it behaves towards the community as a whole"

"One group attempts to take over the entire community, due to a strong dissatisfaction with Government." I said. "Either by manipulation or by armed rebellion."

"Or, Government decides to control everything—at the cost of individual freedom." Ayers nods. "It's utterly impossible to tell what kind of a leader any person is without really examining them under multiple forms of duress. You'll have those who'll meddle, you'll have those who'll be analytical, you'll have those who'll be overly dependent—and those who'll be utterly corrupt. Our version of democracy is no better than yours, with the exception of litigation—of course."

Ayers has, in his own words, perfectly described labor unions and political parties and their effect upon society in general. The competition to exist, even survive, beyond the Feudal system is just as intense for these groups to survive in a Democratic one. And it is this competition, this need to control, that fractured these communities which were established by those seeking a better life than the one they knew. But it needn't be these groups, not at all. The fighting between Science and Religion easily comes to mind for me, as does the fighting between the 'Hawks' and 'Doves" on many political issues.

Even political parties themselves. I swear they spend more time trying to out members of opposing parties whenever some scandal breaks or impropriety occurs, than actually doing the job they wanted citizens to elect them to office for. And it's such that makes Cobra so appealing to people…

"So there's no way to escape the Feudal mindset?" I put out, just to see what his reaction would be.

"It's ironic, but competition for power and authority are forms of Feudalism." Ayers answered. "It's impossible for Governments and Groups to survive for very long without the means of extending their reach. If they can't, they'll stagnate and fracture—causing wars and other destruction until some all-uniting group rises up from the ashes to create another all-uniting government.

"We've seen this happen many times. We also realize the size of the brick we're about to throw into the middle of all of this. It's more than the possibility of being dominated by them…It's the possibility of being destroyed over this that worries us the most.

"But what I wonder," he adds staring solemnly into his coffee, "would they learn the lessons from the last time…Or just fall back full circle?"

In deed.

1 These are used to power deep space probes, such as Voyager One and Two.

18


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven.

In Conclusion.

_This isn't the best means of concluding this report. Yet, I cannot see any other way of concluding it._

_The Edrailians are not self-centered individuals. They are willing to help us, just not in the means we'd want them to. They will not adhere to any agreements they find repugnant or foolish in their reasoning--or those geared towards creating a 'favored' outcome based of political or social beliefs._

_They'll just go right in, and fix the matter as they see fit to._

_Even if it results in the destruction of both sides of any conflict they enter into._

_And if we are hopeful that the Edrailians will be the ones who'd lead us up from the despair of our own making, we will be surely disappointed. They will only take those who have proven themselves to be both responsible and trustworthy enough, in their opinion, to be granted the Keys to their Kingdom._

_A number very small indeed._

_There will be those who'd decry this as an act of favoritism towards those of better stature, but the Edrailians will not suffer fools gladly. Those seeking a 'free ride' will find that the only one they'll get will be the one given while they're expelled from any Edrailian colony. As for their technologies, and whom they'll share with, the stakes are even higher. For these technologies are frightening things to wield. In the hands of those who 'feel' they have the right above all others to have such, may instead herald our joint destruction._

_In the hands of Cobra Commander, there will be nightmares for all to suffer._

_"Only those we feel who are responsible enough to have it will have access to it, for they would have earned our trust with their responsibility of understanding the ramifications of what they will be handling." Ayers himself said. "This is stuff you simply cannot give away, and expect the World to continue existing for very long afterward."_

_Trust indeed…_

_The emergence of the Edrailians is something I both look forward to with great anticipation, and horrible dread. Global calamity, panic, paranoia, mixed with awe, reverence, and understanding Humanity will experience this and many other emotions on that day…_

_And Cobra Commander knows this as well._

_He is currently in possession of the Edrailian Assassin known as Merrimack, wanted both by Dr. Kimball Clarke Wildman, for the death of his first wife (which was the reason why he 'walked' away from the Warlock facility), and by his former Master, the insane Lord Devronique, for failing him during the events of the MIDSUMMER NIGHT Operation. Our greatest enemy will undoubtedly gleam all he can from this hunted person, using it to his advantage in way that I greatly fear; either to force the Edrailians to emerge sooner than they have planned, or unleash a wave of terror upon the world the likes of which have never been seen before…_

_All we can do is simply hope for the best._

_ General Joseph R. Colton, G.I. Joe Team Commander. _

2


End file.
